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“But—”
“I can stitch this up at home,” Natalya insists. “I was a doctor, remember? I’ll be fine. We have to get you somewhere safe first.”
My mouth is dry. My guards are already regrouping, gathering around Natalya and me in a protective circular formation. We have to go. There’s a good chance the shooters will circle back and try to finish what they started.
Without hesitation, I lift Natalya, one arm braced beneath her knees while the other wraps around her back. She yelps, whether out of surprise or pain, I cannot tell. I’m no longer thinking. All that matters now is getting the hell out of here.
* * *
“Did you see the license plate?” Luka asks me.
“I was a little busy making sure they didn’t blow my brains out,” I grumble through gritted teeth. “And even if I did, do you really think they’d be stupid enough to keep their plates?”
“What about your guards?” Pyotr questions. “Did they see the shooters?”
“Sergei says they were wearing ski masks to cover their faces. The only thing any of us can agree on is they were in a navy blue Avtovaz.”
Mikhail says nothing.
We’re on a conference call, my phone set to speaker so I can angrily pace around my office. The walls are fortified and the door is soundproofed, so I’m free to yell to my heart’s content without worrying about the rest of the household listening in.
“At a fuckingplayground,” I seethe. “I want to know who these fuckers are, Misha. Have you heard from any of your contacts? Any more news about this Levitsky asshole?”
“I need you to calm down,” Mikhail says firmly, his voice low and soothing, his dad voice, the one he uses when he’s talking to his kids when they’re upset. It only pisses me off more. I don’t need to be coddled; I need answers.
“What about the traffic cams?” I ask. “Luka, do you think you can hack into them to pull up the footage?”
My youngest brother has always been a whiz kid when it comes to computers and technology in general, which is the main reason he’s in charge of the more technical aspects of CyberFort, the cybersecurity company my brothers and I built from the ground up.
“That’s going to take some time,” Luka admits. He’s normally very cocky about his ability to hack into any systems.
“How much time?” I ask.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not good enough!”
“Dude, I’ll work as fast as I can, but you have to understand I’m on the other side of the Atlantic here. And I know there’s a huge stereotype that everything in Russia is old and outdated, but their cybersecurity is bar none. I promise I’ll do what I can, but you need to be patient.”
I sigh, rubbing my temples. My head is killing me.
“I’m going to escalate this,” Mikhail says. “I’ll contact some of our allies to see if they’ve heard anything. I want to know if they’re coming after you specifically, or if anyone else has had any run-ins lately. Until then, I need you to lay low.”
“Right. Alright,” I mumble. “You better be careful, too. They might be trying to go after me because they know it’ll hurt you.”
I end the call, the bitter taste of bile coating the back of my tongue. I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to join my brother in taking over the Antonov Bratva. Danger was always a part of the job description. It was my fault for not taking proper precautions. Consider my lesson learned. I’m not the type of man who makes the same mistake twice.
I leave my office and venture down the hall, peeking into Simon’s nursery. I’ve had one of the other guest rooms made up for him. It’s still a work in progress, but it has everything he needs. A changing table, a crib, plenty of toys tucked away on high shelves. Aurora made good on her promise to send over some of Frederick’s old clothes. For now, Simon is fast asleep, mercifully unaware of what has just unfolded.
I check on Father next. The door to his room is open, allowing me to see in. Dahlia is with him, dutifully tidying his room while making light conversation. His gaze is distant, as usual, though he appears to be in otherwise good health. There’s a bit more color in his cheeks. Maybe Natalya was right. The fresh air really was good for him. What a shame I have to put an end to our outings before they’ve even begun.
Last, but not least, I make a stop at Natalya’s door at the very end of the hall. I don’t hear anything on the other side, so I knock quietly on her door.
“Yes?” she calls.
I enter her room and freeze.
Her shirt is off, leaving her in nothing but her jeans and her black bra. Natalya is seated on the edge of her bed, a first aid kit opened on top of the sheets. She’s pulled her long blonde hair up into a ponytail, working diligently to disinfect her own wound.
